


Exile

by Queen_Ghidorah



Category: Sly Cooper (Video Games)
Genre: Bentley, Explicit Language, F/M, Murray - Freeform, Possible Explicit Sexual Content down the road, Slyfox - Freeform, Suicide Attempt, This one's probably gonna stir up some backlash, You've been warned, carmelita fox - Freeform, sly cooper - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-18 03:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16109492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Ghidorah/pseuds/Queen_Ghidorah
Summary: She had nothing left to lose. She was alone, and all the odds were against her. She had no chance of survival.Or so she thought.





	1. Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! I am back and ready for more writing!
> 
> Now I'm not going to sugarcoat this one: it's dark. This fanfiction contains a suicide attempt, mature language, and some possible sexual situations near the end. So if that isn't really your cup of tea, then I'd advise you not to read it. However, if you're okay with that then carry on.
> 
> About the canon, this fic takes places in Sly 2: Band of Thieves between the episodes "He who tames the Iron Horse" and "Menace of the North, Oh!" Overall, there will be no major changes in the original game story. However, this fic explores the idea of what happens behind the scenes of the original game, and gives it a much darker and mature turn. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! I want this to be a three-part fic but who knows? It might turn into a four-shot!
> 
> BTW I still take constructive criticism. I value any feedback you can give me so don't hold back!
> 
> Next chapter will probably be up next week!

 

 

“She went this way!”

Adrenaline coursed through Carmelita Fox’s veins as she sprinted through the snow covered wilderness. Several meters behind her Neyla and her mercenaries were giving chase.

After Jean Bison’s spice-filled trains had been sabotaged (most likely due to Cooper and his pals), the law had come swooping in to Nunavut Bay and seized the entire town. The bison and the Cooper Gang had managed to escape, but the fox hadn’t been so lucky. After being spotted by the police at the edge of town, Carmelita had made a run for it, being pursued by the law that she was once a part of.

The vixen ducked underneath a large branch and kept running. A few seconds later she heard a loud **CRACK** and turned to see said branch in splinters, Neyla running after her with her whip out and a wicked gleam in her eye.

Suddenly Carmelita’s legs came to a grinding halt, and she found herself standing at the end of a snow-covered ledge. The drop below was a good 50 meters down, with a wide raging river at the bottom waiting for her.

“Give it up, Ironsides. You’ve got no place to run.”

Carmelita turned to find Neyla sauntering out of the woods, a malevolent smirk on her face. Behind her Carmelita could hear the shouts of her company, growing closer by the second.

The framed Inspector turned back to the ledge, calculating whether or not she could survive the jump. The water was freezing yes, but could it cushion her fall?

“Now, now,” the tigress spoke, “if you just turn yourself in it would make this a lot easier. There’s a lot of paperwork behind fugitive suicides, and I _dread_ to be the one doing it.”

Carmelita hissed at Neyla’s remark. The shouting was getting closer, she had to make a choice.

“However, if it’s _your_ death that I have to file for, I must admit the paperwork seems worth it. You’ve been a thorn in my side for quite some time now. And let’s face it: you have nothing left to lose.”

Her words pierced Carmelita’s gut like a knife. The vixen wanted to quip back with a snappy retort, but none escaped her lips.

Carmelita was so _tired_. She just wanted this to be over. Wanted things to go back the way they were. She just wanted to wake up at home and pretend that this was all a bad dream…

_Jump._

Came a dark thought from the back of her mind. A thought that didn’t care if she lived or died, she just needed to get out of there and **fast**.

The fox turned to Neyla one last time. Neyla, who was once her partner, who had framed Carmelita for conspiring with a wanted criminal, who had taken everything Carmelita had worked for and smashed it to pieces; now standing in front of her with her damned smug look.

Carmelita never wanted to commit a murder as much as she wanted to right now.

But if she shot her with her shock pistol right now, it would further legitimize Neyla’s claim of the vixen being crooked and her innocence would be impossible to prove. Even in death, Neyla would still have the upper hand.

She was trapped.

Carmelita looked at Neyla right in her blazing green eyes and spoke.

“Why?”

Neyla’s smiled widened, her expression becoming downright villainous.

“Because I can.”

Everything began to fall away from Carmelita. It was as if time had slowed down and her body suddenly had a mind of its own as she turned and slowly walked towards the end of the ledge.

And she jumped.

She did not scream. Did not feel any kind of fear. She fell silently into the river rapids and connected with the water a sound **SPLASH**.

Neyla lazily looked over the ledge and observed where the fox had fallen into the river, her expression indifferent. Meanwhile the tigress’s mercenaries had finally caught up with their leader.

She turned to her party, “Carmelita Fox has chosen to jump to her death. For now let’s regroup and decide what to do about the Cooper Gang and known fugitive Jean Bison.”

“But what about Fox’s body?” One of the mercenaries asked.

“I’ll send some people to recover her remains,” Neyla responded coolly. “For now we must block the roads and set a perimeter. We cannot afford to let any more suspects escape.”

“Yes Ma’am,” they all barked.

The mercenaries began to march back to their headquarters, but Neyla looked back over the ledge one last time.

“Good riddance,” she muttered, and began to walk back where she came from.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Carmelita gasped for air as she resurfaced from the river. But as soon as her head poked out from the water another wave submerged her, filling her lungs with cold liquid. She sputtered and coughed, fighting the oncoming current. Her hands reached out, desperately trying to catch some form of buoyancy.

Then she grabbed something, a log floating haphazardly down the rapids. Carmelita clutched onto the log, and hoisted herself up, her upper half of her body clinging to the piece of wood like it was her only means of survival.

The vixen gasped for air as she steadied herself. The water was _freezing_ , and her clothes were thoroughly soaked, putting her at risk for hypothermia. Water dripped into her eyes as she tried to find any trace of Neyla and her goons.

Once she concluded that the coast was clear, she let go of the log and began to swim towards the bank of the river. When Carmelita reached the snow-covered edge, she crawled out of the river and collapsed near some bushes.

The waterlogged fox shivered violently in the snow, curling herself into a ball to try and preserve her body heat.

_You have nothing left to lose._

The psychotic tigress was right. Everything that Carmelita held dear had been ripped away from her. She had been arrested, stripped of her title, imprisoned, tortured, and now a fugitive in the eyes of the world. She had no family, and all her friends had turned against her as if she was a godforsaken disease.

She had hit rock bottom.

She had nowhere else to turn.

And Carmelita began to cry.

It wasn’t fair. She had accomplished so much and made it so far. She was a good person. What had she done to deserve this?

Did the universe hate her that much?

In fact, if all the odds were against her, how did she even manage to survive the plunge into the river in the first place?

Why was she still alive?

Her sobs echoed throughout the empty wilderness, the noise being drowned out by the roar of the river.

No one could hear her.

No one could help her.

She was alone.

The dark thoughts began to return from the back of her mind. She had made it so far, she had been through Hell and back, and all for what?

Carmelita’s plan to recapture the Cooper Gang to prove her innocence had crashed and burned. She had succeeded in imprisoning the Hippo named Murray for a short time, but lo and behold Sly Cooper had showed up and easily pickpocketed the keys from her to free him.

They were a _team_. A gang so organized and so tight knit that Carmelita couldn’t stand a chance.

They were together, and she was alone. Without resources and without any form of help from Interpol.

She had no chance of clearing her name.

_So why bother?_

Carmelita’s eyes snapped open at the intrusive thought. Her tears ceased and she slowly pushed herself off the ground and looked at the sky. The air was getting cooler and nightfall would be coming soon as she gazed up at the orange-purple hue of a sunset.

She pulled her knees to her chest and curled her tail around her. Her mind becoming hazy.

The dark thoughts continued to pursue her.

_You don’t even have a plan do you?_

She didn’t have a plan. She had no idea what to do next. If she was still alive then she had no chance of escaping Interpol’s pursuit. By now they had probably closed off the entire town and had sent a party to recover the vixen in the snowy woods.

They were coming for her.

And she would be captured and she would spend the rest of her life in prison. With Neyla walking away scott free.

Was that a life worth living?

_You know what you have to do, right?_

Carmelita began to shake violently and it wasn’t because of the cold. She steadily unhooked her shock pistol from her belt.

She examined the device. It had survived her plunge into river and still seemed to work. She checked its contents and saw that she had a few shock bullets left.

Time seemed to slow down as she, with glacial like slowness, set it to the highest setting. The most lethal mode that was programmed on the weapon.

Tears began to stream down Carmelita’s face, but not out of sadness. Out of fear, out of uncertainty, out of mercy.

She had nothing left to lose except her life.

 _STOP._ Another part of mind commanded. _Are you seriously picking the **coward’s** way out?_

Anger flashed in her eyes for a moment. She wasn’t a coward! She was Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox of Interpol! She was a hero! A goddamn crusader of justice!

_Not anymore._

The darkness began to consume her mind as the air grew colder and colder.

 _You’re not thinking straight._ The other thought pleaded with her, growing smaller by the second. _You’re tired. You need rest._

 _Yes._ The darkness replied. _You’re tired aren’t you? You are so very tired…_

Carmelita dropped her gun and held her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Her mind swarming with a million thoughts per second.

Her life flashed before her eyes. She thought about her mother and father, about their deaths, about joining Interpol, about Cooper…

Sly…

She remembered the tango, how he looked at her, how he comforted her when they were sent to the Contessa, how he helped her escape Prague…

_This was all his fault._

_No,_ she argued.

_He’s the reason why you’re here._

_Stop. Please._

_Do you really think he cares about you? After all he’s done? He used you for his own gain, what kind of man would do that?_

Carmelita turned toward the gun once more.

_Do it._

She picked up the gun from the snow and slowly placed it up to her temple. Her hand was shaking and her breathing became irregular.

_End it._

Could she? Could she really muster up the courage to put herself out of her misery?

_Pull the trigger._

She looked up to sky once more.

“Forgive me,” she breathed. And she placed her finger on the trigger and was about to squeeze and then it would all be over-

”CARMELITA!”

The fox turned to the abrupt outcry of her name, and suddenly a flash of gray and yellow swung by and knocked the gun out of her hand.

The shock pistol landed a few meters away, and before Carmelita could blink a yellow cane had swung down and smashed the weapon into pieces.

She then found herself looking at Sly Cooper himself, the raccoon breathing heavily as he retracted his cane from the metal splinters of the shock pistol and turned to the vixen.

He rushed over and violently grabbed Carmelita by the collar of her jacket and raised her to her feet, the fox face to face with the disgruntled thief.

“What,” he spat, “the **fuck** do you think you’re DOING?!”

Carmelita blinked in surprise at Sly’s sudden vulgarity. She also was caught off guard by the mix of emotions in his chocolate brown eyes, a mix of hurt, confusion, anger, and another emotion she couldn’t quite place.

He shook her fiercely, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

“ **ANSWER ME**!”

She stuttered. “I…I don’t know…”

“You don’t **know**?! Well it looked pretty fucking clear to me!!”

Carmelita’s lip quivered and she began to shake. Sly had NEVER talked to her this way before, and this was the first time she actually saw him angry…

She should be furious at him for his behavior! How dare he speak to her like that! But to her astonishment, all her anger was nowhere to be found.

The raccoon bowed his head, tears spilling into the snow.

“Why?”

Carmelita shook her head, “I don’t know, I’m sorry, I don’t know…”

He looked at her and then pulled her into a gut-crushing hug. His hands gently stroking her back and head.

Sly seemed to come back to reality and realized how distraught the former Inspector was. He held her tightly, mumbling apologies into her hair.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, you’re gonna be okay.”

Carmelita felt her face flare up and tears started to spill from her eyes as she hugged the raccoon back. She didn’t care if anyone spotted her with him right now, she didn’t care who she was embracing, she was just relieved that someone had finally found her. The vixen silently sobbed into his shoulder and Sly soothed her, holding her and continued to stroke her back.

After what seemed like hours the raccoon and fox pulled away from each other.

“Oh my God Carmelita you’re soaking wet,” he murmured.

Carmelita suddenly remembered that she had jumped into the river to escape Neyla. Her teeth chattered as she spoke.

“N-Neyla’s here. Her m-m-mercenaries are going to-“

Sly held up a hand. “We know, don’t worry we have a plan. Right now I need to get you out of here”

“But-“

“No Buts,” he retorted. “Give me you jacket, you’re going to freeze to death.”

Reluctantly, Carmelita obeyed. She was in no shape to argue and the raccoon had a point. After all he had just saved her life, even if she didn’t want to be saved.

She took off her jacket, revealing her soaked cotton shirt underneath. Sly then removed the blue winter sweater he was wearing and gave it to her to put on. He swung the wet jacket over his shoulder and put his arm around her, offering her his body heat.

She slipped into the oversized sweater and didn’t protest when the thief put his hands on her. The dark thoughts that previously infested her mind were gone, her brain going into autopilot and just followed the raccoon’s lead.

“I’m going to take you to our van. Bentley and Murray aren’t going to like it but I’ll deal with them later. Right now all that matters is your safety. According to Bentley Neyla and her team haven’t blocked the roads yet so we still have some time to high tail it out of Nunavut Bay.”

Carmelita shot him a confused look. “How did you find me?”

“Bentley intercepted the radios that Interpol was using,” he responded. “One of the officers spotted you at the edge of town and called it in. He told me immediately and I set off to find you and make sure that you were okay. But,” he paused, “I can see you’re not.”

Carmelita looked down at the snow in shame.

“Why did you stop me?”

Sly faltered, then regained his demeanor. “Look now isn’t the time,” he gestured to the wilderness. “That hunting party will be here any minute looking for you. We need to go, now.”

Carmelita was about respond, but then a gust of wind came and the cold air served as reminder of her current predicament. The sun was setting and she felt parts of body already going numb.

Sly slipped his hand into hers and lead her towards the trees. “Follow me,” he said.

The fox looked back one last time at what remained of her shock pistol, then let the raccoon lead her back to his van.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Neither of them spoke a word to each other as Sly guided Carmelita to where he and his gang had been hiding from Neyla and her mercenaries. And after 10 minutes of marching through the snow, they arrived at the van, the sky now a deep shade of purple and black as the first stars started to show light.

Murray was busy checking on the engine, his head buried within the hood of the vehicle. Bentley was inside the van with headphones on, listening intently to the distinct conversations between Interpol officers, futilely trying to track down the escaped outlaws.

Sly rapped on the van’s doors 3 times, where Bentley suddenly jumped in surprise and took off the headphones. He opened the van doors.

“Sly! Thank goodness you’re alright! Listen, we have to go Neyla’s-“ he stopped, and the turtle’s eyes went so wide that they practically almost fell out of their sockets when he spotted the orange-furred vixen behind the raccoon.

“GAH! INSPECTOR FOX!!”

Murray jumped and banged his head on the hood of the vehicle at the sudden scream of his reptilian companion. Rubbing his skull, he stepped aside and turned to see Carmelita Fox herself, shivering profusely in the cold behind Sly.

The master thief raised his hands in defense. “It’s okay guys, she’s not going to arrest us, in fact she’s going to come with us.”

Bentley blinked once, then twice. His jaw dropped and he had to clean out his earholes to make sure he was hearing correctly.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! ABSOLUTELY NOT,” he screamed.

Sly shot him a stern look. “Bentley relax...”

“NO I WILL NOT ‘RELAX’! YOU CAN’T JUST SHOW UP WITH A KNOWN POLICE OFFICER AND EXPECT-“

The raccoon suddenly kneeled down to Bentley’s eye level and firmly grabbed his shell. The turtle abruptly stopped yelling and swallowed, his outrage quickly being replaced with nervousness when Sly’s hardened gaze met his as he growled at him slowly.

“She. Is. Coming.”

Sly had never been as intense as he was being right now with his brother. The reptile began to sweat and Murray looked extremely uncomfortable, his ears flat against his head, his legs shaking.

Bentley then turned to the pink hippo and spoke, “And you’re just okay with this?”

Murray looked at Sly, then at Carmelita behind him, and knew something was wrong. Carmelita wasn’t speaking, her head was bowed and she was trying to avoid any sort of eye contact with either of the gang. As much as he feared the Inspector, he could tell she wasn’t acting like herself. That, and he noticed that she was wearing Sly’s sweater, and saw her damp jacket hanging over Sly’s shoulder.

Besides, she wasn’t all bad. Even though she had captured him for 30 minutes tops, she had given him a bag of jellybeans and kept him company.

“I think Sly knows what he’s doing,” Murray responded. “I don’t mind if the Inspector tags along.”

The turtle scoffed. “Are you just saying that because you’re scared of what she’ll do if you say no?”

Murray shook his head.

Bentley sighed. “Alright fine, she can come, but if she tries _anything_ …”

Sly stepped away from the turtle. “She won’t,” he replied. “Right Carmelita?”

The vixen didn’t meet his gaze, but silently nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” the raccoon spoke. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get the hell out of town.”

 

 

 


	2. Confliction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A raccoon, fox, turtle and hippo walk into a motel...
> 
> (Also there's a snowball fight!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again!
> 
> Before we begin, I'd like to tell you something. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. This fanfiction does NOT advocate suicide in any way, it is simply being used as a plot device. If you or a loved one is considering suicide, TELL SOMEONE IMMEDIATELY. GET HELP. Believe me, I'm not writing this to be preachy, I've been there. Everything may seem bad now, but trust me, it will get better! I may not know what you or that person may be going through, but I believe in you 100%. You CAN get through this.
> 
> Now, that being said and done, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I have a vague idea on how this will end, but the final chapter should be up in a week or two!

* * *

 

 

 

 

The drive out of Nunavut Bay was nerve racking, but relief floods through the four passengers as they finally escape the town and from Neyla’s reach. Bentley is in the front seat sifting through the local map, directing Murray to their ferry that they had “borrowed” from Jean Bison’s workers. Meanwhile, Sly had offered Carmelita a warm blanket, and silently thanks him as she curls up in the back of van. It’s not long until she falls unconscious under Sly’s watchful eye.

Bentley turns to his raccoon friend, “So are you going to tell us what’s going on?”

Sly meets his gaze, “Listen, I don’t think this a good time…”

“No,” the turtle says, “don’t try to talk your way out of this one. We deserve to know why _she’s_ here. You’re putting all of us at risk by bringing her with us. Did you forget that she captured Murray and put him in a cage?”

“I mean,” the hippo starts. “It wasn’t _that_ cramped…”

The thief takes a deep breath, then exhales.

“Carmelita tried to kill herself.”

Bentley gasps at the information his brother presents to him. Murray suddenly slams the breaks, causing all of them to move forward.

They stand there for what seems like an eternity, with Bentley and Murray staring at Sly as if he had just revealed that it was the end of the world. Carmelita is still sound asleep.

Finally, Bentley speaks.

“Are - Are you sure?”

Sly nods grimly.

The turtle shakes his head in disbelief, “Jesus Christ. I – I’m sorry Sly I had no idea.”

“I don’t understand,” Murray says, his tone heavy with concern. “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know,” Sly murmurs. “I found her in the woods with her gun to her head and – and I just ran and smashed it to pieces…”

“Well,” Bentley starts, “I mean we know Inspector Fox has been through a lot lately. But I never thought she’d actually resort to...you know.”

The raccoon suddenly buries his head in his hands. “It’s all my fault.”

“What! No it’s not!!”

“Bentley you don’t understand,” he moans, dragging his hands down his face. “If I had never used Carmelita for the operation back in India she wouldn’t be _here_ right now.”

“That was Neyla’s fault,” the turtle exclaims. “Not yours. She’s the one to blame for all this mess! We should’ve never trusted her in the first place.”

_Neyla._

The thought of the purple tigress makes Sly boil with anger. He had trusted Neyla, he had thought that she was trying to help, and look where it got him. She had dragged Carmelita into this mess just because she could, and as a result it had nearly driven her to suicide.

He looks back at Carmelita, napping peacefully in the corner of the van. She had done so much good with Interpol. She was the reason why the Fiendish Five and other notorious criminals were sitting in prison cells. Only to have it all ripped away from her in one foul swoop.

This wasn’t a game anymore. Sly had never been the one to take things seriously, but now he realizes that people are getting hurt at his expense, even his own gang. With Murray’s trauma with the Contessa, Bentley’s struggle when he was alone, and now Carmelita’s rapidly declining mental health.

All of this, just to make sure that Clockwerk remained dead and gone.

“So…what should we do?”

Asks Murray with a hint of skepticism, his foot still on the brakes. Bentley is silently fidgeting in the front seat, for once at a loss for words, not even bothering to voice his opinion.

The question falls unto Sly, and then he speaks.

“For now, let’s just take Carmelita with us. We don’t exactly know where Jean Bison fled to yet, so we still have some time before we make our next move. I’ll keep an eye on her, and if she tries anything,” he pauses. “Well, I hope she doesn’t but even if she does I will take full responsibility for any repercussions it may cause.”

Bentley is still silent, the gears of his mind actively turning, but he nods. Murray puts his foot on the gas and continues to drive down the dark, icy road. Sly looks back at Carmelita, praying that he’s made a good decision.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They continue the rest of the drive in silence to the ferry, and sail across the water as far away from Neyla as possible. It’s only a few hours until they finally reach the next town and stop at a motel. Sly gently wakes Carmelita as Bentley and Murray walk in to rent out rooms.

“Hey, Inspector, time to wake up.”

“Mmm?”

Her eyes snap open, and she abruptly gets up, suddenly aware of her situation and her surroundings. She reaches for her belt, only to remember that her gun is gone, and falters.

“It’s okay,” Sly responds. “You’re not in danger, Neyla is long gone. We’re going to lay low in this motel for a little bit until we think of what to do.”

He takes her hand and leads her out of the van, but then she suddenly rips her hand away from his.

And she runs.

“HEY,” Sly calls, and chases after her, easily catching up to the runaway vixen.

He grabs her arm and before she can scream for help he pulls her back and clasps a hand over her mouth. He holds the struggling vixen in his arms, and he silently thanks God that there’s no one outside to witness the situation, lest someone calls the cops for what looks like an attempted kidnapping.

“LISTEN TO ME,” he hisses, and turns Carmelita around to face him, hands on her shoulders. “Are you seriously trying to run away, after the shit _you_ pulled?! Where are you going to go?!”

She spits at him. “Why do _you_ even care?!”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. He feels his heart sink at her harsh words.

 _Is it not obvious?_ He wants to ask, but this isn’t the time to discuss their _unique_ relationship.

He gets an idea. Faster than Carmelita can blink, he swipes her handcuffs from her belt and slaps them on his wrist and hers.

This outrages her. “YOU SON OF A-“

But he cuts her off, points an accusing finger and speaks in the angriest tone he can muster.

“ **ENOUGH**. Think about what you are doing. I saw you try to _kill yourself_ and you want me to just let you leave?! _I_ saved your life! _I_ helped you escape Nunavut Bay! You _owe_ me! And if you’re not going to say _thank you_ at least return the favor!

“What do you want from me,” Carmelita snarls.

“I want you to **stay**.”

He pulls her closer, his brown eyes staring intensely into her amber ones.

“ _Please_.”

She pauses, not breaking eye contact, her mind deep in thought. Then she speaks.

“ _Fine_.”

Sly relaxes. He knows in the back of his mind that he expected Carmelita to be difficult, but if she’s deciding to cooperate then maybe they can get through this.

Carmelita huffs and begins to march back to the motel, tail lashing and promptly dragging Sly with her. Bentley and Murray step out of the lobby into the cold to meet the fox and raccoon.

“Okay,” says Bentley. “The motel’s a little crowded but we managed to get two rooms. Murray, Sly and I will take one room, and Inspector Fox will get her own.”

“No,” Sly interjects. “I’m going to stay with Carmelita in her room.”

“ **WHAT** ,” Carmelita screeches. “ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

The raccoon ignores her and continues, “Bentley, what are the odds of Neyla and her officers tracking us down this far?”

“Well if I did my math right, and I _always_ do my math right, Neyla is still probably combing the town looking for us. Nevertheless, we should take some extra precautions, I suggest we take turns keeping watch tonight and leave early tomorrow morning.”

“ _Excuse me_ ,” Carmelita interjects, the gang turning their heads to look at her. “I think I’m perfectly capable of having a room to myself-“

“Carmelita,” Sly interrupts in an authoritative tone. “I am not leaving you alone so you can do something like turn us in. This isn’t up for debate.”

She wants to say something, but Sly shoots her a look and tugs on the handcuffs holding them together, reminding her of what they talked about earlier. The vixen growls.

“If you try _anything_ ,” she tells the thief, “you’re going to be very sorry that you had ever been **born**.”

Relief floods through him and a small smile spreads across his face. He holds up his hand, “Scout’s Honor.”

Carmelita scoffs, and then Murray speaks.

“Are you-are you guys wearing handcuffs?”

The fox looks down at her chained to the raccoon and suddenly her face flushes a deep shade of red. She tries to speak, but Sly beats her to it.

“Don’t worry about it big guy, just a precaution.”

 _Precaution my ass_ , Carmelita thinks. _I bet he’s fucking enjoying this._

“As I was saying,” Bentley continues, clearly annoyed. “We will each take 2 hour shifts of watch. Inspector, since you got some sleep in the van I nominate you to go first.”

The three men brace themselves for a vicious retort, but to their surprise Carmelita nods in agreement. Bentley continues warily.

“I will go next, then Sly, and finally Murray. Murray, since you’re driving are you going to be okay with roughly 6 hours of sleep?”

Murray crosses his arms, looking triumphant. “The Murray can handle any amount of sleep AND drive. For He is the Murray!”

Sly chuckles, Carmelita rolls her eyes, and Bentley hands out the room keys.

“Inspector, when your 2 hours are up I will knock 5 times on your motel door.”

“Don’t oversleep,” she snaps at him.

The four of them head back to the parked van to grab their things, and walk back to their respective rooms. Sly unlocks the door, bids goodnight to his gang members, and holds the door open for Carmelita like a gentleman.

Once the two of them are inside and the door to their room is locked, Carmelita gestures to the handcuffs that bind them together.

“So, are you going to get rid of these?”

“Only if you behave,” Sly replies.

Carmelita abruptly holds up her hand. “Scout’s Honor,” she says in a mocking tone, and gives him the finger.

Sly snickers and sifts through his bag for his best lockpick and unlocks the handcuffs. Carmelita retracts her wrist, rubbing it gently, while Sly grabs a pair of pajamas.

“Since your clothes are still wet from the river, you can wear some of my clothes until they dry. However, they might be a little big on you…”

“I’ll manage,” she growls, accepting the flannel pants and t-shirt he hands to her. The fox heads to the bathroom to change out of her damp garments.

“If you’re not out in 10 minutes,” he calls after her, “I’ll pick the lock and break in.”

But she slams the bathroom door and Sly turns to look around the room. Suddenly he curses under his breath.

There’s only one bed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She’s out in 2, her clothes hanging up to dry in the shower, wearing the raccoon’s oversized pajamas. Carmelita steps out of the bathroom to find Sly sitting on the bed.

Sly looks at her, and admires how cute she looks wearing his clothes.

“So,” he says, his tone heavy with caution. “There’s only one bed, but if you want I can sleep on the floor, or we could take turns-“

But she cuts him off. “We’re adults Cooper, we can share the same bed.”

The thief blinks in surprise at her answer, as she walks towards the windows of the room and grabs a chair. She sits and stares out the window in silence, keeping watch for any unexpected company.

Sly wants to say something, _anything_ to break the ice between them. But what can he say? He wants to address Carmelita’s attempted suicide, but he thinks that she won’t give him a straight answer as to _why_. All he knows is that if she was really at the end of her rope, then this is something much more serious than he’s used to, and he’s worried that he won’t be able to fix it.

He gets up and grabs a second pair of pajamas from his bag and goes to the bathroom to change. Carmelita is still silent, drumming her fingers against the table next to the window.

Sly closes the door to the bathroom and takes off his winter garb. He places himself into Carmelita’s shoes and examines the grim situation. Thanks to Neyla and the Contessa, the Inspector was arrested under suspicions that she was conspiring with him and his gang to steal the Clockwerk parts. Neyla had taken a picture of Sly and Carmelita dancing together during Rajan’s ball as “proof,” when in reality Carmelita was completely unaware that she was dancing with Sly and being used as a diversion. As a result, she had been imprisoned and probably tortured for weeks at the Contessa’s facility, as well as almost being brainwashed by the Clockwerk Eyes. It was true that Sly and his gang had helped her escape, but that further legitimized Neyla’s claim, and in turn made Carmelita look even worse.

Her only hope of ever clearing her name would be either to capture the Cooper gang or whatever remained of the Klaww Gang. Both of which were damn near impossible if she had no resources and no help from Interpol.

As he slides on his other pair of flannel pants, he ponders on how Carmelita managed to get to Canada in the first place. Interpol had listed her as a dangerous fugitive in Europe, so how did she escape the continent so easily? She had no family that Sly knew of, and all of her friends were from work, they wouldn’t dare to help her.

She had no friends, no family, no job, nothing.

But resorting to suicide?

 _No._ He argues. _She wouldn’t do that, there has to be something I’m missing_. _Carmelita may have been through a lot but she wouldn’t just give up so easily._ That’s not the Carmelita he knows.

Suddenly he bites his tongue in shame. How could he be so thoughtless? Carmelita’s a living _person_ , not a character. She has her limits, she’s been through more than anyone should ever have to go through in their lifetime.

Maybe she just finally had enough.

It fills Sly with dread, a world without Carmelita in it. He shivers at the thought of him being too late stop her from…

Then it hits him like a truck.

_What if the reason was him?_

Sly feels himself go hot, then cold at the revelation and his heart drops. What if she tried to run away before because _he_ was the reason why?

 _No_ , a voice similar to Bentley’s says in his mind, _this is Neyla’s fault remember?_

But he backtracks, and realizes all the damage he must have caused to Carmelita’s mental health. He _used_ her for the tango back in India, he _used_ her to get the Clockwerk Eyes, even before the Klaww Gang he had _kissed_ her as a _distraction_ at the Krakarov Volcano, only to fucking _handcuff_ her to the rail to make his getaway!

Sly holds his head in shame, how could he be so cruel? Toying with her feelings, using her for his advantage, acting like everything was a game. He was so careless that it nearly caused someone he cared about to hurt themselves.

_No wonder she hates me so much._

He should apologize, he should take responsibility for his actions, he needed to clear her name.

But how?

He couldn’t just turn himself in. There had to be another way…

He dons his pajama shirt and steps out of the bathroom, Carmelita is still keeping watch, not even bothering to acknowledge his presence.

God, he owes her an apology.

Sly takes a deep breath.

“We need to talk.”

“No we don’t,” she says simply, she doesn’t even turn and face him.

He is taken aback by her stubbornness, but then he remembers who he’s dealing with.

“Carmelita _please_ -“

“Sly I am **not** in the mood to discuss anything with you right now.”

The raccoon pauses, and thinks for a moment. Then he asks her the question that he’s dying to ask:

“Is it me?”

Carmelita is silent.

Seconds turn to minutes as he stands there, awaiting her answer. But none comes.

He sighs, if she is going to give him the silent treatment he might as well accept it. After all, he had made some progress with her by convincing her to stay, even if it’s for a little while.

He climbs into the dingy bed and looks at the vixen one last time. Her ears are twitching and her tail occasionally flicks in annoyance. Sly desperately wants to tell her he’s sorry, that she means so much to him than she thinks, but his mouth is dry.

“Goodnight Inspector,” he tells her, and then shuts off the lamp on the nightstand.

Carmelita remains in her seat, and 15 minutes pass until she hears the sound of soft snoring coming from the sleeping raccoon.

She gets up and stretches, then turns to look at the thief.

_You should call the police._

Comes a thought from the back of her mind. Carmelita _should_ call the police, this was her chance to redeem herself and get her way back into Interpol!

But she doesn’t.

She paces around the small motel room, her mind brimming with thought.

Carmelita had tried to kill herself, something that she now regretted, but Sly Cooper himself had come and saved her life. He had realized that she was not mentally sound, so he took her with him out of Nunavut Bay and had helped her escape from Neyla (again). The raccoon had convinced his gang to take her with them, and when she tried to make a run for it when they had reached the motel, Sly had stopped her.

But why?

It wasn’t possible that he actually _cared_ about her. No, no, no this was because he felt _guilty_. That _had_ to be the reason, there was no other explanation for his actions. After all, he had used her to steal the Clockwerk wings back in India, the tango they shared was _just_ a diversion. There couldn’t be _any_ other reason why he had chosen to dance with her.

_Right?_

So if he didn’t care about her at all, then why save her life? Wouldn’t that make Cooper’s own life much _easier_?

Carmelita didn’t understand, and was almost _afraid_ to understand. All of the signs pointed to one insane theory that she had filed away, and if that theory turned out to be _true_ , then everything she knew would be thrown into question.

_Do you feel the same way?_

The intrusive thought makes Carmelita stop in her tracks.

 _NO,_ she argues, _I have absolutely no feelings towards the thief. He is a criminal that needs to be brought to justice._

_Are you sure about that?_

The vixen shakes her head in disbelief and turns to look at the raccoon again, still asleep.

 _You’re not my enemy,_ she remembers him telling her back when they were at Clockwerk’s volcano.

So if they weren’t enemies, what were they?

Carmelita returns to her chair and huffs in exasperation. The last thing she wants to think about right now is her “relationship” with Sly Cooper.

 _He saved my life and helped me escape Nunavut Bay_ , she thinks to herself, _that’s why I’m **not** going to betray him, I owe him one and it’s only fair._

She continues to keep her vigilant watch, but she has trouble convincing herself that’s the truth.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Exactly 2 hours later she hears 5 knocks on her motel door and sees the shivering turtle outside her window, looking quite nervous.

She gets up and opens the door, Bentley jumps in surprise and stammers.

“O-Okay, I’ll take over watch now. You-you go get some sleep.”

Carmelita grunts in agreement and begins to close the door, but the reptile stops her.

“W-Wait.”

She cocks her head and crouches down to meet him at his eye level.

“Look turtle, I’m not going to turn you in. The last thing I need-“

“It’s not about that,” he suddenly blurts out. The vixen narrows her eyes and beads of sweat begin to form around Bentley’s scalp, but he continues.

“Listen, if-if you need to…talk to someone about…things, I happen to have taken an online course in psychiatry. I’m not a professional but I would be more than happy to apply those skills-“

Carmelita slowly leans in to the turtle, getting into his face. Bentley begins to shake as the fox starts to talk slowly through gritted teeth, tone full of malice.

“What did Sly tell you?”

He swallows and says in a small voice.

“E-Everything...?”

She breathes in through her nose, and exhales. Then she gets up and before Bentley can say anymore, she slams the door in his face.

She was going to have words with that raccoon.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The early morning hours come faster than expected, and when Murray finishes his shift he strides over to the next room to wake Sly and Carmelita. He knocks on the door.

“Guys? Time to wake up, we gotta go.”

Sly blinks awake and feels something heavy pressed against his chest. He tilts his head downwards and-

His heart stops.

Carmelita Fox is curled up against him, her hair wild and bedridden, the faint smell of her perfume in his nose. The raccoon has an arm around her, subconsciously placed there overnight as a result of tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. She’s still asleep.

At first Sly feels overjoyed, how many times had he dreamed of waking up with Carmelita by his side? But then reality hits him like a bucket of ice water: this was highly inappropriate! She was only there because Sly had insisted that they stay in the same motel room, and even though Carmelita was fine sharing the bed, she would certainly not be fine of him taking advantage of her personal space. Imagine what she would say!

Unfortunately for Sly, he was about to find out.

Murray pounds on the door a second time, much louder than the first. “Guys? Come on wake **up**!”

Carmelita suddenly jumps awake from the noise and looks around, and Sly feels his blood go cold. He quickly retracts his hand from her side, but it was too late, for she had already realized what was going on.

She gapes at him, eyes wide, bodies still pressed together. Sly had never felt true fear until this moment and braces himself for the inevitable.

Rage fills Carmelita’s face and she violently shoves him away from her, pushing him off the small bed. Sly rapidly stands up and tries to speak.

“Carmelita, I’m sorry, I don’t know how-“

**SMACK!**

Pain hits Sly’s cheek like lightning, and he staggers away from the livid vixen. Carmelita is standing upright, hand in air and her breathing comes in rapid bursts.

“HOW **DARE** YOU SLY COOPER,” she roars. Behind the motel door, Murray suddenly cowers in fear at the sound of the Inspector’s unbridled fury.

The raccoon raises his hands in surrender, lest the fiery vixen comes at him with another strike. However, for some reason, he appreciates her anger. Compared to the cold silence that Carmelita had showed him the night before, her rage is something he is familiar with, something almost _welcoming_ to him.   

He expects for her to continue the verbal assault on him, but she glares at him, nostrils flaring, already satisfied with the terror in his eyes. The fox abruptly marches towards the bathroom and slams the door behind her. A few minutes later Sly hears the hiss of running water coming from the shower.

He sighs in relief and walks towards the motel door, opening it to find Murray outside shaking in his boots.

“Relax Murray,” he says in a soothing voice. “It’s all over now.”

The hippo rubs the back of his neck and looks at Sly warily.

“Wh-What happened?”

The thief leans against the doorway, arms crossed. “We had a…misunderstanding,” he responds. “Let’s just say that maybe sharing the bed wasn’t the best idea.”

“Oh,” Murray mumbles, “Well Bentley wanted me to tell you that he wants us out of here in 10. Meet us at the van.”

“Will do,” Sly replies, and shuts the door. He grabs his bag and quickly slips on a casual pair of pants and shirt. He’s tying the laces to his boots when he hears the water stop, and a minute later Carmelita steps out. Her hair smells of fresh shampoo and she’s wearing her clothes from yesterday, still slightly damp, but not wet enough to cause any discomfort.

The vixen tosses the raccoon the clothes that he had leant her last night, saying nothing to him, not even a thank you. He puts the clothes in his bag and stands up, he tries to speak but she beats him to it.

“Next time, you sleep on the floor,” she growls darkly.

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice small. “But I’m still not leaving you alone.”

She huffs in annoyance and places her hands on her hips. “Listen, if this is about what happened back in the woods, it was stupid and it won’t happen again.”

“It’s not stupid,” he replies, “Carmelita this is serious, I’m really worried about you.”

“Why?”

He’s about to tell her, about to pour his heart to her, but a sudden and frantic knocking on the door interrupts him.

Carmelita opens the door in frustration, Bentley is outside out of breath.

“What is it,” she snaps at him.

“Neyla’s on the move,” he says between breaths, “we gotta go **now**.”

Carmelita and Sly look at each other and the three of them rush out of the motel room, Sly grabbing his bag on the way out. They run to the parking lot and jump into the van, and Murray slams his foot on the gas, leaving the motel in the dust behind them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Breakfast consists of crackers and chips from various vending machines, as Murray drives along the icy backroads, the falling snow slightly obscuring his vision.

Bentley once again takes his place in the front seat, a map in hand, guiding Murray through the wintery Canadian wilderness. Sly is in the back, polishing his cane and stealing glances towards Carmelita, sitting in the corner.

The vixen has her arms and legs crossed, tongue in cheek, her foot tapping in annoyance. She’s obviously upset, but none of the men in the vehicle dare ask her what’s wrong, in fear that if they do they will lose a body part.

An hour passes in uncomfortable silence, occasionally broken by Bentley giving directions or Murray turning on the radio to check if all the stations are _still_ playing god-awful folk music.

Finally, Carmelita speaks.

“Where are we going?”

“Away,” Bentley replies, not bothering to look up from the map.

“That’s it? Away?”

“Yep,” he responds, his tone carefully concealing his irritation.

The vixen scoffs. “So, right now your plan is to drive as far away from Nunavut Bay as we can, while in the meantime getting us lost in, I don’t know, _bumfuck_ middle of nowhere?”

“We’re not lost,” Bentley argues, now clearly agitated with the former Inspector. “True, we are getting as far away as we can from Neyla, but I’m _trying_ to find someplace we can lay low until we figure out what to do.”

Carmelita is visibly pissed off, and she gets up from the corner of the van, taking a seat right behind the turtle next to Sly, who now looks extremely tense.

“What we _should_ do,” she counters, “is track down that lummox Jean Bison and arrest him!”

“Well that’s a great idea,” Bentley says sarcastically, “do _you_ know where he is?”

“No, but can’t you hack into something of his and pin down his location?”

The turtle pauses, then he laughs.

“God, you really don’t know anything about Jean Bison do you? I’m sorry, I thought you were a detective? That guy wouldn’t touch a computer even if you paid him to.”

Carmelita’s fur begins to bristle, and Sly and Murray start to get uncomfortable.

“Well if you’re **so** smart, why don’t you tell me what Jean Bison is doing with the Clockwerk parts? As a matter of fact, why do **you** want the Clockwerk parts in the first place?”

“To make sure that people _like_ Jean Bison don’t have them,” Sly interrupts, his brows furrow in aggravation.

Carmelita scoffs again. “So let me get this straight: you guys, a band of wanted thieves, are stealing the Clockwerk parts to make sure that **other** thieves and criminals don’t use them? What makes you so much better?”

“Because we don’t _want_ to use them,” Sly snaps. “ _We_ want to make sure that nobody has them, not Interpol, not the Klaww Gang, **nobody**. Our goal is to collect all the parts and _destroy_ them.”

“How?”

Sly opens his mouth, then closes it. Carmelita continues to speak.

“If I recall, not even a _live volcano_ could destroy the parts. So if you can’t destroy them, what do you plan to do with them?”

The raccoon is angry now, and Bentley notices this, he tries to warn Carmelita but fails.

“Inspector Fox, I don’t think-“

“I wasn’t asking **you** ,” she spits at him, “Go on Cooper, tell me _your_ great idea.”

He gets in her face, and speaks slowly and deadly.

“I am. Not using. The parts.”

“ _Bullshit_.”

Sly sets his jaw, and Carmelita bares her teeth, prepared for a fight. Bentley slowly reaches for his crossbow, god forbid he actually has to tranquilize the two of them in order to prevent all hell breaking loose.

“You know what-“

**POW!**

**“FUCK!!!”**

The van suddenly careens to the side, and the four passengers brace themselves. Murray is cursing, and steadily drives the van off the road to the side. He slams the brakes.

“What happened? What’s going on?” Carmelita asks.

“Let’s find out,” Murray responds, and carefully gets out of the car.

The gang exit the vehicle to investigate, and Murray curses a second time, upon realizing what has happened.

What remains of the left-rear tire of the van is shredded rubber, slightly smoking from the release of built up pressure.

“Okay,” Bentley says, “no big deal. We’ve got a spare. Murray can you get me the car jack?”

Murray opens the van doors, and fetches the jack, as well as several other tools. He gets to work replacing the tire, while Bentley and Sly look on. Carmelita huffs and goes back inside the vehicle, sitting in the front seat waiting.

Sly is frustrated with Carmelita’s lack of understanding. He wishes that she would look past her black and white views and instead focus on the bigger picture. Why can’t she see that he’s stealing the Clockwerk parts for the greater good? Clockwerk himself was a blight on mankind, why can’t she realize that the world is better off without him and his godforsaken machinery?

The raccoon doesn’t want to talk to her after their spat, but it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He rarely gets nasty with the vixen, and whenever he does it feels like a punch in the gut.

So how can he fix this?

Sly sighs and leans against the van while Murray replaces the tire, snow falling onto his fur. Ever since yesterday he’s felt so powerless. He misses his optimism, his wit, his ability to have fun in almost any situation.

Suddenly, a light bulb goes off over his head, and he bends down and piles some snow in his hands.

“Hey Bentley,” he calls to the unsuspecting turtle.

His reptilian brother turns around, only to be met with a face full of snow.

Bentley stumbles backwards and wipes the white substance from his face, his glasses crooked from the impact.

“You’re going to regret that,” the turtle says lightheartedly to him, and quickly bends down to pack a snowball in retaliation.

He throws the snowball, but Sly expertly dodges out of the way. Murray finishes replacing the tire and looks to see what the commotion is all about. Sly takes this as an opportunity and he makes another snowball, hurling it at Murray.

The hippo easily blocks the hit with his arm, and a smile forms on his face.

“Snowball fight,” he yells, and grabs and armful of snow, packing it together.

The three brothers run around the side of the road, laughing and chasing after each other whilst snowballs are flung here and there. Murray tries to dunk Bentley into a snowbank, and Sly jumps on his shoulders and steals his scarf. The raccoon then grabs a snowball and throws it…

…hitting Carmelita square in the face.

The boys freeze, and Carmelita slowly wipes the snow from her face, glaring at Sly. His eyes widen in fear, expecting another tirade from the furious fox.

But to his surprise, she grins menacingly, and bends down to pick up some snow.

“You,” she says slowly, “are a **dead** man.”

Sly takes one look at her, and runs away as fast as he can. Behind him several high velocity snowballs connect with the icy ground, barely missing him.

They begin again with their little snowball war. Carmelita prefers to target Sly, and successfully hits him several times, while Bentley and Murray try to stay out of her way, pelting each other with snow.

Without warning, Sly feels someone tackle him from behind, and he and his attacker tumble into the snow. He collapses on the ground, and Carmelita is on top of him, looking triumphant. She then picks up handfuls of snow and flings them into the raccoon’s face, shouting various curses at him while doing so.

“ **That’s** for handcuffing yourself to me yesterday,” she screams. “And **this** is for cuddling me while I was asleep!”

Sly laughs as he futilely blocks her blows, and then Murray and Bentley are laughing, and then suddenly Carmelita finds herself laughing too.

It only lasts a second though, as she immediately remembers who she is and who she’s on top of. The vixen clasps a hand over her mouth and her face flushes a deep shade of red. Sly also realizes their current…position, and he falls silent with embarrassment. But he has to admit, hearing Carmelita’s laughter and seeing her on top of him makes his heart flutter in a way he can’t explain.

Sly looks at her and there’s something in her eyes, an unknown emotion that he’s never seen from her before, his anger from earlier evaporating almost instantly. He swallows and he feels the heat coming off her body like a furnace. Sly desperately wants to touch her, pull her closer to him, feelings bubbling up in his stomach like-

The sound of coughing shatters the fragile silence, and the moment is broken. The two mammals abruptly snap back to reality, turning to the source of the noise. Bentley and Murray both stand awkwardly a few feet away, waiting for the raccoon and the fox.

Carmelita quickly gets off Sly, brushing off her jeans and hesitates. Then she extends an arm, and Sly grabs it, smiling goofily. They stand there for a moment, then Carmelita turns to Murray and speaks.

“Are-Are you finished with the tire?”

Murray nods, and the four of them walk back to the van and get in. Murray starts the vehicle and drives back onto the road.

Nobody says a word, in fear of breaking the fragile peace between them. Carmelita takes her place back in the corner of the van, staring out the windows. Meanwhile, Sly is flipping through the Thievius Raccoonus, occasionally glancing at Carmelita. Bentley turns to him.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Inspector Fox laugh before,” he whispers.

Sly looks at Carmelita, still acting aloof, and a small smile crosses his lips. He’s never heard her laugh either, but he admits it’s something he could get used to, something he’d wish he’d hear more…


	3. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty Lights, a fireside chat, and finally some sexy times...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings!
> 
> In this chapter we finally find out why there's a warning for explicit sexual content. To be honest the sex scene was probably the hardest to write because it's my first time doing it. So I read countless other explicit fanfictions for reference. Other than that, the next chapter is going to be fairly short since it's the epilogue, so you can consider this a four-shot. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I still take constructive criticism! So criticize away!

* * *

 

 

 

They drive for hours on end, occasionally making stops for gas and food. The foursome stop at one town and Carmelita purchases some fresh new clothes, as well as some toiletries. Bentley gives her one his old backpacks, and insists that she keep it for the future.

Sly is happy seeing Carmelita in a better mood than before. He’s even happier seeing her get along with his gang, and the vixen even apologizes to Murray for imprisoning him back in Nunavut Bay.

In the back of his mind he has fantasies about Carmelita joining them. Helping them take down the rest of the Klaww Gang and Neyla. Maybe once that’s over she could even do heists with them, tackling criminal empires all around the globe. He could teach her how to be a thief, they could finally be together…

_No_ , he suddenly thinks, _I can’t just ask her to give up Interpol for me. Her job was her life, she would never agree with mine._

Still, it’s something that he can’t quite shake off.

Nightfall eventually comes, and all of them begin to get very tired. But since there’s no place to stay nearby they decide to park on the side of the road and get a few hours rest. Murray and Bentley recline their seats, and it’s not long before they’re both asleep, while Sly lays out blankets for he and Carmelita in the back.

He takes great caution to make sure he’s laying as far away from Carmelita as possible, as to avoid another “incident” like last night. They both curl up a few feet away from each other, and Sly quickly falls unconscious…

Until an hour later he hears the opening and shutting of the van doors.

The raccoon stirs and turns to see Carmelita gone.

Panic floods through his veins as he bolts upright, and slips on his boots. Bentley and Murray are still asleep in the front, unaware of the fox’s absence.

Sly quickly puts on his coat and exits the van, careful not to wake his brothers. He looks around the frosty wilderness. Relief hits him like a ton of bricks when he spots Carmelita leaning against a lone pine tree.

He quietly walks over to her, snow crunching beneath his boots. She’s looking away from him, into the wilds. Upon closer inspection he notices that she’s holding a cigarette between her fingers.

“You know those are bad for you.”

Carmelita takes a long drag from the cigarette and exhales. “I know,” she says.

Sly leans against the other side of the tree, and she doesn’t seem to mind. Then he speaks.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

She sighs, “Yeah. Too stressed to sleep.”

He pauses. “Are you leaving?”

“Well,” the fox gestures to their surroundings. “I don’t really have any place to go right now, so no.”

Sly nods. “Once we get to the next town you can leave if you want.”

“How do you know I won’t arrest you and your friends once we reach civilization?”  

The raccoon thinks for a moment. “I mean, I don’t. But you happen to be unarmed, and we kind of outnumber you.”

“I could call for help,” she argues.

“And risk getting arrested too? Aren’t you also on the run?”

Carmelita is silent, and she takes another drag from the cigarette.

“You’re right.”

Sly turns to her in surprise. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re right. You hear me? You win. I won’t call the cops when we reach the next town. You’re free to go.”

Her tone sounds…defeated. And this makes Sly very worried, to the point where he doesn’t want to leave her alone again.

“If you do call the police, can you give us a 10 second head start?”

She turns to him. “What for?”

He looks at her with his best puppy-dog eyes. “Because you love me?”

She rolls her eyes and laughs again, and the sound makes Sly’s chest warm.

“Maybe,” she says. “But don’t get your hopes up criminal, one day you’re going to jail.”

He laughs. “You’ll never catch me.”

“Wanna bet?”

They’re both facing each other now, still leaning against the pine tree. Carmelita is smiling, her eyes shimmering with confidence, and Sly feels so warm that he starts sweating in his coat.

God, she was beautiful like this, even with the cigarette. She looked vibrant, righteous, like she could do anything.

She looked _alive_.

Something that almost wouldn’t be possible if…

Then he remembers. He remembers Carmelita with the gun to her head, remembers her sobbing into his shoulder, remembers her trying to run away from him.

He remembers how much she hated him.

But did she?

There was only one way to find out.

Sly takes a deep breath and walks in front of the fox, facing her. She blinks in surprise and drops her cigarette in response to the sudden proximity. He puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Carmelita,” he breathes. And at the sound of her name being said so _delicately_ she has no choice but to give him her full attention.

“Is it me?”

She cocks her head, “what do you mean?”

He takes another breath and speaks.

“Am I the reason you wanted to kill yourself?”

She looks at him, eyes wide.

“Sly…no. No, no, no. Dios mío, were you thinking this was your fault all this time?”

His lower lip begins to quiver, and tears threaten to fall down his face.

“I…I thought you hated me. After everything I’ve done. I thought you tried to run away before because…it was me. And when you didn’t answer me last night…I thought…”

Sly chokes up and his voice becomes hoarse. Then Carmelita does the unthinkable.

She hugs him.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues. “I’m so sorry for handcuffing you at the volcano, I’m so sorry for using you at Rajan’s ball, I’m so sorry for getting you arrested-“

But then she shushes him, and strokes his back. Sly is sobbing now, sputtering countless apologies.

“It’s okay,” she responds, her voice so soft. “Sly, it was **never** you. I tried to kill myself because I thought there was no other way out. But,” she admits, “you showed me another way. You saved my life, again. And I’m so sorry for trying to run away before, I did that because I was afraid of being spotted with you. But now I see you did the right thing by stopping me…”

She pauses. “Did you do all those things because you felt guilty?”

He nods slowly. “I care about you, Carmelita. No matter what side of the law we’re on, you’ll _never_ be my enemy. In fact, don’t tell Bentley and Murray, but you’re almost like my best friend.”

She scoffs, “best friends don’t try to arrest you and throw you in jail.”

“No,” he says. “But best friends do stop each other from dying.”

She pulls away from him, and Sly can see Carmelita’s eyes watering.

Suddenly, a shimmer of light catches Carmelita’s eye, and she looks up. Sly does the same, and they both see the Northern Lights dancing above their heads.

The vixen drops her jaw in awe, and the raccoon grins. One thing that made up for the unforgiving cold of the Canadian tundra is the Aurora Borealis that appeared in the sky. Sly and the gang were used to it by now, but he had to admit every time the Lights appeared, they always managed to take his breath away.

He turns to Carmelita, and the way the Lights reflect off her eyes makes the raccoon’s heart skip a beat. She continues to stare at the glowing phenomenon in the starry sky, her ruby red lips smiling, her cobalt blue hair swaying slightly in the wind.

She was everything that Sly wanted, everything that grounded Sly to the world. A life without her in it was a life he just couldn’t live.

He loved her.

He loved her so much it terrified him. He had never loved someone as much as he did for Carmelita. Her trying to take her own life made him realize how much she meant to him.

Sly wants to touch her, hold her, kiss her. He wants to say some many things to her, but his tongue fails him, and his body refuses to budge. Instead he just stares at her, saving this moment in his memories forever, just the two of them alone under the night sky sparkling with color.

She turns to look at him, and her smile disappears, her face heavy with worry for the raccoon.

“Sly? What’s wrong?”

He snaps out of it and tries to speak, but he trips over his words.

“I-I…it’s nothing-I just-I…”

She gets closer to him, their bodies brushing each other slightly, and Sly’s mind kicks into overdrive. He’s breathing heavily now, his heart won’t stop _pounding_.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she whispers.

Her eyes are full of stars and colors, and the thief just **can’t** speak. His mouth is dry and his blood is burning and if he doesn’t say something soon he’s actually worried he might pass out right then and there…

Since his mind fails him, his body decides to take over. He abruptly grabs her hands and holds them in his, Carmelita is startled by this action, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Sly?”

He pulls her closer to him, their faces centimeters apart. Rich chocolate eyes stare into blazing amber ones, as if they have all the answers to the universe.

His brain finally, finally gets it together, and he forces the words out of his throat.

“Carmelita, I…I…”

Suddenly, there’s a brilliant blinding flash of light from the sky, and both Sly and Carmelita flinch. Their eyes blink several times and adjust to the change in brightness and look up.

The Northern Lights are shimmering and shining like a beacon in the night. So bright that it’s hard to look at them for more than a few seconds. Sly turns to Carmelita, mirroring a puzzled expression.

“Am I crazy,” he says, “or does that seem a bit brighter than it should be?”

She gives him a hard look, her nose wrinkles.

“Wake Bentley.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Something’s definitely not right here,” Bentley muses. The four of them are awake and outside in the snow, looking up at the sky. Murray is overjoyed by the sight of all the pretty colors, but the other three are awash with doubt.

“What do you think?” Sly asks.

“Maybe its aliens,” Murray suggests.

“Murray please,” Bentley responds. He scratches his chin and examines the Aurora, a concentrated look on his face, as if the Lights were an equation to be solved.

“What if,” Carmelita starts, “what if it’s Bison?”

Bentley’s expression suddenly changes, and his eyes widen.

“Oh my God, Carmelita you’re right!”

Carmelita turns to the turtle. “Wait, what?”

Bentley dashes to the van and grabs his laptop. He opens it and types furiously, speaking as he does.

“There’s no other explanation! First Jean Bison uses the Parts to power his trains, and I bet money he’s using the Lights’ electromagnetic energy to power…something else. This has the Klaww Gang written all over it I’m sure.”

He presses a few more keys and then takes out his binocucom, taking pictures of the unusually bright Borealis. Then Bentley uploads the pictures to his computer. A few moments pass and a small “ding” comes from the laptop and a smile spreads across his face.

“Found you.”

He turns the laptop to the three of them and explains.

“I created a program in my computer that can identify the coordinates of something just by using a photograph. If we follow this signal, we’ll find Bison.”

Sly, Murray, and Carmelita all look at each other, and nod in agreement.

“Let’s get going,” Sly says, “we have a bison to hunt.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

2 day pass by, of driving and motels and an awkward silence between Sly and Carmelita. Eventually, the group come across an abandoned cabin in the wilds, a few kilometers away from a hamlet. They unpack their things, and Bentley and Murray decide to go into the small village to get supplies, leaving Sly and Carmelita alone.

Sly is in his designated bedroom, checking his things and making sure he has all his gear. He walks into the main room of the rustic cabin, decorated with antlers and fur on the walls, an old wooden table with chairs in the center. Frost covers the windows, snow beginning to fall as the day turns into night once more. He spots Carmelita sitting on a carpet by the recently-lit fireplace, blanket curled around her and staring into the flames. The raccoon stops for a moment, and admires how the warm light reflects off her dark blue curls.

Sly stands there, his tongue once again failing him, staring at the vixen. The way her tail swishes absentmindedly, the golden earing glinting in her left ear, her soft sunset-colored fur blazing. He wants to say so many things to her, wants to sit next to her and cuddle, whispering sweet nothings in her black-tipped ears. But his brain freezes, and there’s only silence, occasionally interrupted by the crackling of the fire.

Carmelita’s ears twitch, and she turns her head to see Sly standing there, gawking at the fox like a deer in the headlights. Concern crosses her face, and she speaks.

“Is something wrong?”

Sly snaps back to reality and thinks for a minute. Usually when they were alone like this, he would say something playful or flirtatious. But for some reason he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to ruin the moment with cheeky banter.

“It’s nothing,” he responds, breaking his silence. “If you need me I’ll be in my room.”

He tries to leave, but Carmelita abruptly stands up.

“Sly, wait.”

He stops and turns to the vixen, eyes wide with surprise. She swallows and gestures to the fireplace.

“Let’s talk for a minute, please.”

Sly blinks, Carmelita has _never_ asked Sly to talk with her, especially in an environment filled with so much intimacy. Before Neyla, their conversations usually consisted of curses and flirting. They’ve never really had time for a heart to heart.

But the raccoon obeys her request, and slowly walks toward her. She sits down by the fire once more and pats the spot next to her on the carpet. He sits next to Carmelita, and she speaks.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Sly raises his brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Carmelita says, “that there is something you’re not telling me. Ever since a few days ago you’ve been acting strange. You’ve been…distant, and if there’s something that I’ve done that’s upset you-“

Sly interrupts her. “No! Carmelita it’s not you, really! I just-“ he falters, “I’m just thinking about Jean Bison and the Aurora Borealis.” It’s not a complete lie, but he hopes she takes it.

But she doesn’t, and the fox frowns. “Don’t lie to me Sly. I know when people are lying to me.”

The thief cocks his head and changes the subject. “Whatever happened to ‘Cooper’? You’ve never called me by my first name so many times lately.”

Carmelita blushes, and it’s not because of the vicinity of the fireplace.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” she argues. “Maybe I prefer calling you by your first name lately because it’s the only way you’ll listen to me. But don’t change the subject. There is something you’re not telling me raccoon, so **talk**.”

He grins. “Why how can I hide something from you? You’re beauty alone is enough to loosen my lips.”

The fox’s brows furrow, “okay now I know something’s wrong.”

Sly’s ears perk up in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“You haven’t flirted with me in _days_ ,” the former Inspector explains. “So why are you flirting now? In fact, that’s one of the weakest lines I’ve ever heard from you.”

He rears his head back and puts a hand on his chest in fake shock. “How could you say that? My pick-up lines are great!”

Carmelita scoffs. “So tell me, why you haven’t been using them?”

Sly sighs and looks into the fire. “I’m not sure,” he replies, “after what happened in the woods I just thought you’d appreciate it if I was more…serious about the situation.”

She bows her head. “I see.”

Sly bites his tongue, he had forgotten that Carmelita’s suicide attempt is still a touchy subject.

He clears his throat. “That aside, I gotta ask: how did you escape Europe after what happened in Prague?”

The vixen looks up at him, stray curls falling into her face, the fire’s light reflecting off her eyes. Sly feels his stomach suddenly flip-flop.

“Well,” she says, “after you helped me escape from Neyla in Prague, I called in a favor from an old friend of mine. He didn’t work for law enforcement, and he certainly was no snitch. So he took me in for a couple of days, got me some supplies, and even convinced one of his friends to sail me to Canada on their boat.”

“Is he handsome too?” Sly mumbles, slightly annoyed.

Carmelita looks at him and laughs. “Are you jealous Ringtail?”

The raccoon pouts and crosses his arms. “So what if I am?”

She laughs again, and his heart swells. “For your information,” the fox explains, “this friend of mine was a friend of my father’s. So he’s three times my age and happily married, you have nothing to worry about: I’m all yours.”

The second those words escape her lips Carmelita feels herself turn red with embarrassment and regret. Sly’s eyes widen in surprise at the statement, and his heart picks up speed.

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!” She shrieks, and Sly howls with laughter.

“Gee Inspector, I didn’t know we had _that_ kind of relationship…”

Carmelita bats him on the arm in retaliation, blushing furiously.

“Oh shut up you ass! You know exactly what I’m talking about!”

He wipes away small tears from his eyes and regains his composure. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

She glares at him, her ears flat against her skull. But she can’t keep a straight face, and a small snicker escapes her lips.

They both turn back to the fire and say nothing, and it’s only a few minutes later until Carmelita speaks again.

“Where did you learn to dance?”

Sly looks at her. “Where did that come from?”

She shrugs, and shifts a little closer to him. “I’m just curious, back in India you actually weren’t half bad.”

“Before we went to India, Bentley did some research on Rajan’s big party, and learned that Rajan had a soft spot for the tango. So I took some lessons back in Paris, watched a couple of videos, and well…” he pauses, “ _she_ helped me practice.”

He doesn’t dare utter Neyla’s name, but the amount of disgust in his tone makes the message clear to Carmelita. She winces at the thought of _her_ , and how _she_ screwed the both of them over royally.

“If it makes you feel better,” the vixen says, “ _you_ were the one who made her look good. Her movement was _shit_ compared to yours.”

Sly grins. “That’s why I preferred you instead.”

Carmelita blushes, and it makes the raccoon’s smile larger. “Really? I thought you just wanted to dance with me so your friends could steal the Wings.”

He shakes his head. “That was Bentley’s reason, not mine.”

“Then…why did you choose me?”

She’s so close to him that their noses are almost brushing, the magnetism between them _impossible_ to ignore. Sly feels something curling in his gut, and his heart is throbbing so fast he thinks it might stop completely.

Every fiber in his body wants to touch her, to close the distance between them, but Sly restrains himself. What if she pulls away? What if she’s disgusted? No, that’s impossible, she wouldn’t be this _close_ to him if she didn’t feel the same way…

Seconds pass and they just sit there, frozen, unsure of who will make the first move, unsure of what happens next.

Then Sly speaks.

“You know why.”

The tension between them snaps like a twig, and the two finally, _finally_ connect after waiting for what seemed like an eternity.

And God, it felt so _good_.

The kiss becomes heated fast, almost unbelievably so. The electricity between them is so **powerful** and **fierce** that Sly is almost afraid that it might actually kill him. The taste of her is warm, sweet and slow like honey, and he slips his tongue into her mouth, and a small moan escapes her lips.

Carmelita cups his cheek as they deepen the kiss, her other hand gripping his shoulder. Sly wraps his arms around her and loses himself in her scent, her touch, her taste. For a moment he forgets everything: the Parts, his Gang, his livelihood. For now it’s just the two of them, alone in a cabin in the woods.

Their tongues wrestle each other, fighting for dominance. Something long dormant in Sly awakes, and in the back of his mind he has a slight idea where this might be heading. But he doesn’t care, doesn’t care if he’s a thief, doesn’t care that Carmelita’s a cop, all that mattered to him was that she was here, alive, in his arms, just like he had always dreamed.

After for what seems like hours, Carmelita pulls away, gasping for air. Sly looks at her, slightly disappointed by the sudden end to their session. She looks at him, eyes like stars, and there’s something in her smile that confirms that this is far from over.

She drags her teeth across her lower lip and trails her hands down his chest, rubbing him. Sly blushes furiously and swallows, this wasn’t a dream, this was happening, right here and now.

He holds her tighter in his arms, one of his hands running up her spine and threading into her dark curls. The vixen’s hands move from his chest to his back, slipping underneath his blue shirt, scratching him gently.

Sly’s breath catches, and he feels blood rush from his head to…another part of his body. He feels so hot that it’s almost like he’s about to ignite, like the fire in front of him. But before he takes the next step with her, he needs to know, wants to know if she wants this too.

“Are you sure?” He asks, in a voice so husky that Carmelita feels her heart melt.

“Yes,” she breathes.

Sly lunges back into her, his lips crashing against hers. She moans again and rakes her nails down his back, her legs wrapping around his waist. His lips move from her mouth to her jawline, down her neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses and sometimes even a small nip.

Carmelita gasps at his touch, the feel of his lips against her fur so intoxicating that she arches her head back and exposes more of her neck. Sly gets the message, and he bites down gently on the part where her neck meets her shoulder and sucks. The fox’s eyes widen in shock and pleasure and she cries out.

Alarmed, Sly suddenly retreats and inspects the hickey that he’s left. Carmelita whines and Sly caresses her cheek.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, “it doesn’t hurt, I like it.”

 He exhales in relief, and picks up where he left off. The vixen tugs at the raccoon’s shirt. He rears back and rips off the fabric quicker than Carmelita can blink.

Her eyes travel up and down his toned, furry chest. She had no idea how muscular Sly was underneath his clothes, despite him being as acrobatic as he was. Carmelita bites her lip and touches him, her hands tracing circles on his back.

Sly groans and continues to bite and suck at her exposed neck. She was _so_ soft. He relishes in her taste and touch.

He rests his head on her shoulder and stays there, inhaling her scent, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She moves closer to him and gently, _gently_ bites his shoulder. He growls softly at her, his hips bucking involuntarily in response.

Suddenly, Carmelita grabs Sly’s hands and guides them toward the bottom of the sweater that she’s wearing. She tugs at it, and he silently understands the gesture. At an agonizingly slow speed, he grips the hem of the cloth and pulls upward. She raises her arms, and the garment comes off, revealing her orange and cream torso.

Sly swallows, hard. Holy shit she was _gorgeous_. Every curve a masterpiece, every muscle a godsend, everything. The only thing covering her chest a lace black bra, and Sly feels lightheaded. Her eyes lock with his, and she nods in encouragement, pulling his hands to her back.

He fumbles with the hooks of the bra, and after several tries he finally undoes it, slowly sliding it off her chest to reveal her breasts.

Carmelita blushes deeply at her exposure, and Sly feels faint. His arms fall to his sides, and he tries not to _stare_ , but he has no idea what to do.

She notices this, and wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in, kissing him. The contact makes Sly remember how _good_ she feels, and he reciprocates. When she pulls away, she whispers in his ear.

“I’m taking that you haven’t really done this before.”

Sly tries to speak, but all he can manage is a strangled grunt. But he nods.

“That’s okay,” she responds coolly, “it’s like dancing. Just follow my lead.”

She then takes his hands and guides them to her exposed chest. Sly inhales sharply as he touches her breasts for the first time. He holds his hands there for a minute, his mind blank, but Carmelita puts her hands on top of his and squeezes.

Something in Sly’s head finally clicks, and he understands. He squeezes again, hard, and traces his thumb across one of her nipples. The vixen makes a small, high-pitched noise in the back of her throat and her spine snaps back, arching at the sensation. He does this a couple of times, rubbing and massaging her breasts, and the _noises_ she’s making are music to his ears.

Sly decides to take a gamble, and kicks it up a notch. He slowly pushes her down on the carpet until she’s lying down and he’s on top of her. He bends down and places his mouth on her breast, and sucks the erected nipple.

Carmelita gasps loudly and she arches her back. Her hands shoot up to the back of Sly’s skull and her fingers tangle in his hair. Her hips buck against his, and Sly groans in response. His tongue moves in circles around her nipple, and she’s crying out his name, losing herself in his touch.

Sly retracts with a small nip, and switches to the other breast, giving it his undivided attention. He thrusts against her, and she moans deeply, the contact between them crackling and sizzling like high voltage power lines.

Sly moves away from her breasts, and gazes at Carmelita beneath him. Her hair is strewn about and her neck is covered in markings, but when he looks into her eyes he sees it: the same feeling that he has, the same feeling that he’s kept buried beneath his flirting and charms for all these years.

They lay there staring into each other’s eyes, wondering who will make the next move. The two of them are having a hard time processing that they are being so _personal_ with each other despite their… _differences_ , but they let their bodies do the talking, for logic has been long abandoned by this point.

Sly bushes stray curls out of Carmelita’s face and smiles, and she smiles back. Then she pulls him close to her and kisses him, her tongue snaking into his mouth. He groans, resting his hands on the curves of her waist and moves against her, eliciting a small moan from her lips.

The vixen then breaks the kiss and props herself up on her elbows. Sly is startled by this abrupt gesture but he goes with it, and it’s not long before she pushes him back onto the carpet, straddling him. He tilts his head back and stares at her in awe, dumbfounded by her beauty and confidence.

“My turn,” she breathes, a mischievous smile crossing her lips.

Carmelita lines her hips up with Sly’s, and he shudders in anticipation. She slowly rolls against him, and Sly feels himself get hard at a record speed. She moves again, and he hisses, her hands running back and forth on his bare chest. She steadily builds up a rhythm between them, moving together on the mixture of blanket and carpet. Sly’s grip becomes vice-like on her waist, clinging to her as if she was his only means of survival.

Carmelita then makes a bold choice, and moves her hands to his belt, undoing it. Sly’s eyes become so wide that it strains his sockets, and his chest starts heaving. She slowly unzips his pants, and slips her hand through. Sly blushes deeply as Carmelita brushes the bulge in his boxers, delicately rubbing him with her fingers. He lolls his head back, exhaling sharply, and mumbles her name over and over.

The fox reaches through the slit of his boxers, and gently grasps his erected manhood. She strokes him, moving her thumb in circles on the tip, and Sly’s hips roll upwards. His eyes flutter shut and he arches his back ever so slightly.

She grips him tightly and begins to move up and down his shaft. Sly sees stars, and he _cannot_ believe that Carmelita Fox is touching him like this, pleasuring him like this. None of his late night dreams about her have _ever_ come even close to something of this magnitude.

Carmelita quickens her movements, and Sly groans. His hands move from her waist to her back, pulling her closer to him. She braces herself and moves her other arm near his head, using it as a stilt to keep herself diagonal to him.

“’Lita,” he moans. Her ears perk up at the sound of the new nickname, and she smiles impishly. She strokes him faster, and Sly can’t take it, he’s about to explode…

But then she stops, and removes her hand from him. Sly looks at her, and she leans down and whispers. “Bed, now.”

Sly blinks, then he sits upright and grins. He grabs her, hoisting her over his shoulder as he stands up. Carmelita gasps in surprise, and he rushes to his bedroom. He kicks the door behind him shut and locks it, then he drops her onto the old wooden bed. She laughs and kisses him, moving her hands to the zipper of her jeans, kicking off her snow boots. Sly notices this, and after she undoes her zipper he grabs the waistline of her jeans and yanks them off, throwing them behind him.

He breaks the kiss and moves away to pull off his pants and boots, tearing them away and leaving him with nothing but his boxers. He lunges back into Carmelita, kissing her hard, licking and nibbling her lips. She leans back into the bed, and guides his hands to her black lace panties.

His hands begin to shake in response as he thumbs the garment. But he swallows and pulls himself together, ripping the fabric off her and pulling it down her legs.

He stops and stares at her in her nakedness. She was _beautiful_. She was _everything_. Not even the Aurora Borealis could compete. Sly can’t tear his eyes away from her, he wants to stand there and stare at her forever. But they don’t have forever, and Carmelita gets impatient. She pulls him toward her and presses her body against his. She tugs at the boxers he’s wearing, the final piece of clothing separating them.

“W-Wait,” he breathes.

She tilts her head in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you-are you _really_ sure you want to do this?”

Her ears flatten against her skull. “Do you _not_ want me?”

He shakes his head. “No, no, no. I want this. I’ve wanted this for a really long time. It’s just…I feel like we’re rushing this.”

She thinks for a moment, then she leans close to him and whispers in his ears.

“Sly, do you love me?”

He pulls his arms tighter around her. “Yes.”

“Then give me a reason to live.”

Sly’s ears perk up and he moves his hands to his boxers. He slips them off, revealing his erect manhood. Carmelita take a good look at him up and down, licking her lips in suspense.

Suddenly, she grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him onto the bed with her. They tangle for a minute, and then she pins him. He looks up at her in reverence, and he has no objections to her being on top.

He always had imagined her that way, after all.

But the _contact_ between them, skin to skin, fur to fur, without anything separating them almost drives him insane. Carmelita moves against his length, and he shivers, the friction between them driving his instincts haywire.

She positions herself on top of him, about to let him enter her.

“Ready?”

He _can’t_ speak, but he mentally smacks himself for acting so inept. He locks eyes with her, his primal lust found in her as well.

“Yes.”

Carmelita slowly, _slowly_ sinks herself down on his member. She gasps sharply at the contact, and Sly feels taut like a bowstring. Her eyes flutter shut, and eventually she engulfs him completely, pressed against his lap.

They stay there for several seconds, panting and breathing. Sly’s hands move to her waist, and Carmelita rests her hands on his chest. She opens her eyes and looks at him, her face a deep shade of red, and he speaks.

“You okay?”

She nods and utters one word.

“Move”

But he doesn’t know how, so Carmelita silently shows him. She rolls her hips forward and Sly opens his mouth, making a strangled noise. She smiles and encourages him to move his hips with hers, and he obeys.

He rolls with her and she inhales, the sensation of him being inside her leaving them both fairly light-headed. Neither of them speak, and they steadily build up a rhythm. The wooden bed creaks and groans as they rock together.

Carmelita’s soft moans and breaths fill the room along with Sly’s. The sounds ricochets off the walls, and Sly prays to God that Bentley and Murray aren’t around to hear.

He juts his hips upward, eliciting a loud cry from _his_ vixen. He does it again, and she screws her eyes shut and arches her back. The raccoon pulls her closer to him, picking up speed and her noises become frantic. She quickly matches his pace and thrusts against him, _hard_ , leaving him gasping for air.

Carmelita breathes something in Spanish, and Sly can’t understand but he’s pretty sure it’s either a blessing or a curse. He moves even faster, and she’s riding him, wildly crying out his name.

He buries his face against her neck, mumbling incoherently. Telling her how beautiful she is and saying how much he loves hearing her gasp and whine. Their movement becomes frenzied, and the bed squeaks loudly in protest, threatening to break under their intense lovemaking.

“ _Mierda_ ,” Carmelita screams, “Sly, I’m-oh _God_!”

She’s _so_ close to her climax, and Sly grips her tightly as they both ride it out. Her walls convulse and tighten, and she comes, an explosive, passionate release of energy.

Eventually she slows her movements, gasping for air as she comes down from her high. Sly holds her, beads of sweat running down his fur. The two of them lay there for a moment as Carmelita recovers. He glances at her, trembling and breathing, and notes how lovely she looks. Her hair wild, her fur matted and flushed, her body toned and curved like a model sculpture.

Sly leans in and kisses her, a hungry fervent thing. Their mouths are at war with each other, fighting for supremacy. His tongue runs across her lower lip and she moans, the sound alone causing Sly to lose control. Without thinking, he rolls them over on the bed until she’s beneath him, and plows into her.

She makes a noise, so desperate and needy that Sly stops, and checks to make sure that he hasn’t hurt her. But she locks her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles. Her eyes gaze into his, and for a split second Sly swears he can see her very soul.

He presses his forehead against Carmelita’s, breathing softly against her, eyes not breaking contact. They say nothing and lay there for what seems like hours, until she takes her hand and threads her fingers with his.

Sly takes this gesture as confirmation to proceed, and he slowly thrusts into her, starting again. Her eyes flutter shut. He gradually builds up their previous rhythm, and he feels her body tighten once more at the contact. Carmelita then moves with him, her body arching at every thrust, her other hand rising to grip his shoulder. Their hands are still clasped together, holding each other tightly.

He goes to kiss her again, but he can’t keep his lips pressed against hers due to lack of air. So he steals little kisses here and there, chasing the taste of her lips, the feel of her tongue. He rocks faster, and Carmelita moans loudly.

He thrusts against her, deeply and frantically. He keeps hitting her spot, the one that causes her to cry out his name and her hips to rise up. She abruptly lets go of his hand, and runs her nails down his back, to the point where it almost stings. But he doesn’t care, the pain is nothing compared to what he’s feeling, the _ecstasy_ that she gives him.

They quicken their movements, and the moaning coming from them becomes more frantic and rising. She opens her eyes, and the way she gazes at him causes the raccoon to come undone. He feels something primal burst from within him, and he plows into her again and again and _again_. He can’t stop himself as he pushes Carmelita against the bed, each thrust causing her to cry out.

Carmelita begs him not to stop and he doesn’t. He whispers so many things to her, and it only hits him right before his climax that he hasn’t told her.

“’Lita, ‘ _Lita_ ,” he gasps. “I love you. God, _I love you_.”

“ _Show me_.”

The words release him, and he fucks her so hard that he knows in the back of his mind it might leave bruises to them both. He grips her tightly as he comes, showing her how much he loves her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They lay there in the dark after they finish, cuddling one another bare, basking in the afterglow. Carmelita finds herself oddly at peace despite the circumstances. It’s as if years of pent up negative energy had been released for her system.

Sly pulls her closer and spoons her from behind, kissing the back of her neck and shoulders. Sleep threatens to overtake the both of them, but before she succumbs she has to tell him, has to let him know.

“Sly,” she whispers.

“Hmm?”

“I love you too, and thank you.”

He gives her a puzzled look. “For what?”

“Everything”

He smiles and kisses her, then he pulls the blankets over them both.

“Goodnight ‘Lita.”

“Goodnight Ringtail.”


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end!

* * *

 

 

 

Sly stirs from his bed, the morning sun shining through the only window in his room. He shifts under the covers and reaches for her.

But his fingers grasp at nothing.

He snaps awake and looks around. But he finds no sign of Carmelita.

Was it just a dream?

No, that was impossible. Last night’s events were too _real_ to be considered a dream. That, and he’s not wearing any clothes. They’re scattered around the cold room.

He tilts his head, puzzled. Maybe she went out for a smoke?

He gets up from the bed and dons his clothes.

 _If she is out_ , he thinks, _I really need to talk to her about her smoking habit_.

He exits his room to find Murray cooking breakfast in the run-down kitchen, while Bentley is pouring over his laptop on the table in the main room.

“Morning guys,” Sly mumbles.

“Oh hey!” Murray exclaims. “Good morning! I made eggs and bacon, do you want some?”

“Sure, by the way, where’s Carmelita?”

Murray pauses, then looks at Sly confused. Bentley also looks up from his laptop.

“I…I thought she told you?”

Sly cocks his eyebrow. “Told me what?”

“Sly,” Bentley says. “Carmelita left.”

His heart drops down to his feet, and he blinks several times, processing this new information.

“She-she what?”

“She woke up me and Bentley early this morning and asked us to drive her into town,” Murray states slowly. “We dropped her off at the bus station. She said something about going to Toronto…?”

Sly sinks to the floor, his eyes wide in shock.

“So…she’s gone?”

Bentley gets up from his seat and walks over the raccoon and puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Sly, are you okay?”

“I don’t understand,” he says in broken voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Murray then walks over to him, looking concerned. “I’m sorry Sly, we thought she already told you.”

Tears start to well up in the corners of his eyes. How could he be so foolish? He had thought she was going to join them. He had thought she was going to stay with him.

Did last night mean nothing to her at all?

He wipes the tears from his eyes and stands up, his voice hoarse.

“I need a minute.”

The hippo and turtle exchange glances. But before they can voice their opinions, Sly rushes to his bedroom and slams the door behind him.

He sits on his bed and holds his head in his hands. How could she just leave him without a word? After everything they went through the past week, after confessing to her and making love, after she told him that she loved him, she was gone?

Maybe she realized the weight of her choice the next morning. Maybe she thought she had made a mistake. Maybe she didn’t love him after all. Maybe-

Then he sees it, a folded piece of paper sitting on the nightstand.

Sly reaches for the paper addressed to him and opens it. The handwriting is slightly messy but otherwise readable.

_Sly-_

_I didn’t know how to tell you this in person, so I left you this letter._

_As much as I want to stay, I just can’t. I’m sorry. So I’ve decided to go and try to lay low for a while._

_As you read this I’m on my way to Toronto. Once there I’m going to head back to Paris. I’ve got some connections that I can try to use in order to dig up dirt on Neyla. So make sure that once you’re done with Bison and the Klaww Gang business, drop me a line and together we’ll take that bitch down._

_As for last night, well, I have no regrets. It’ll be our little secret. But once I’m back in Interpol all bets are off, and I’m coming after you._

_So make sure you don’t stop running._

_See you in the world Ringtail._

_-C_

He reads it a second time, then a third, then he folds the paper back up and puts it in his pocket. He stares off into space, hoping that Carmelita’s safe and sound.

Sly feels…bittersweet. As much as he’s sad to see Carmelita leave, he knows it’s for the best. Besides, if she had no regrets, then surely there’s a chance for them in the future?

A knock on his door interrupts his train of thought.

“Come in.”

The door opens and Bentley and Murray come into his room.

“We found him.”

“What?” Sly asks.

Bentley pulls out his laptop and speaks as he types.

“The signal from the Aurora Borealis is emitting from a handful of kilometers north of here. It’s in a heavily wooded area, and according to the locals there are rumors of a lumber camp smack dab in the middle of it. _That’s_ where Jean Bison and the Clockwerk talons are.”

Bentley looks at Sly, smiling triumphantly at his discovery. But Murray looks doubtful, and he speaks.

“But, what about Carmelita? Do you think she’s gonna be okay?”

Silence fills the room in response to the hippo’s question. Sly remembers that Bentley and Murray don’t know about he and Carmelita’s…bonding.

 _Give me a reason to live_.

And he did. He gave her everything, he had saved her life and had given her a second chance.

He was the reason she kept on living.

Because he loved her, and Neyla couldn’t take that away from them.

“I think she’ll be fine,” Sly responds. “Carmelita and I did some talking when you guys were asleep a few days back, and I’m pretty sure she isn’t suicidal anymore. In fact, I have a feeling that we’re going to see her again fairly soon.”

He thumbs the paper in his pocket and smiles. Bentley and Murray look at each other and nod.

“Now,” Sly says, “let’s get going. We’ve got a job to do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Carmelita leans against the plane window, staring out into the rich blue sky.

The trip to Toronto had been long and nerve-racking, but thanks to her fake ID from Bentley, the vixen had managed to snag a one way trip to Paris without arousing any suspicion.

She thinks about Sly and his Gang, and hopes they’re alright. Especially Sly, after the events that took place that night and her abrupt exit.

Carmelita should feel ashamed, she should feel disgusted with her reckless decision. To sleep with a known wanted criminal that she had been pursuing for years.

But she doesn’t.

In fact, she feels happy. Despite the fact that she’s still on the run, despite that Neyla betrayed her, despite the Klaww Gang. She feels happy.

Carmelita realizes how much she’s grown. From busting out of a sarcophagus to arrest Sly Cooper, to being saved from her attempted suicide by him. She had laughed and cried, she had lost and gained, she had seen so many things because of him.

The vixen smiles, in the darkest of times they would have each other’s back, no matter what side of the law they were on. He would always have her, and she would always have him.

Because they loved each other. Even if everything went back to normal, even after this whole thing was behind them and they were back to playing their game of cops and robbers, that would never change.

And Carmelita Fox wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments and Kudos! I had a good time writing this fic, and I feel like this has helped me grow as a writer!
> 
> As for future fics, I'm going to a break from writing for a while. This one has left me quite exhausted and I need some time to recover. But don't fret, I'll be back sooner than you know it!
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoyed Exile. And once again, I take constructive criticism, so don't be afraid to voice your opinions. It helps me improve!


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